A Herald After My Own Heart
by NordicButthole
Summary: Spoilers for the main quest 'Here Lies the Abyss' in Dragon Age: Inquisition. Grey Warden Alistair feels guilty for the Inquisitor's choice in the fade, blaming his crush on the Herald for her decision. When he gets a chance to speak his mind his feelings take control. Rated M for sexual sex stuff.


Again, major spoilers for Dragon Age: Inquisition, in particular the mission Here Lies the Abyss.

Also this is rated M for a reason.

My first playthrough o DA:I, Alistair had become queen with my Warden, and I had no idea how much more screen-time he has if he remained a Grey Warden! I haven't played it yet with Alistair as Hawke's Warden intelligence, so his opinions may be different. Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!

All in Alistair's POV.

As the night sky deepened in its shades of blues and blacks, Alistair Theirin made cautious steps down the stone halls of the Adamant Fortress. Torches lit along the walls guided the Grey Warden with a flickering light that reflected off metal brackets, he could hear the crackling from the flames with each passing of a torch. It was odd, Alistair thought, how quiet things were here. Not yet a full day ago these halls were filled with chaos, filled with brave men who may not have made it to the night. Good men, Wardens and soldiers alike, who died trying their hardest to keep evil at bay.

Reminded of what happened in the fade Alistair tried to waggle away the memories with a quick shake of his head. For how long will that guilt pry at his mind? He knew The Herald had made a mistake, choosing Hawke to keep charge the Nightmare instead of him. The Wardens _are_ to blame for what transpired here. He should have made atone for it. A fair sacrifice. The more Alistair thought about it, the more fault he could find in himself for The Herald's choice.

He sought after her during his time in Skyhold. At first, out of curiosity from all the stories and gossip that filled many's ears; hearing her humbling answers to his questions brought a sense of relief to him, so he sought after her even more. As she would talk, he would notice little things about her: the wide smiles, the excitement in her voice, the wild expressions that rushed over her face right before the good part of a story. The Inquisitor had made some poor choices, sure, but it was impossible for him to not like her. More than once he refereed to her by her first name, as if they were friends, or maybe something more. She couldn't have done the same with Hawke. He knew that for certain-

Something in front of him made Alistair stumble backwards, barely catching himself from falling onto the cold stone. The scratches and stains that come with age on wood embellished it in sweeps and waves as his gaze fell upon the door that had opened in front of him. "Maker," a familiar voice said softly, "are you alright?"

Evelyn?

"Oh, nothing fatal. I was just a bit startled..." He gave her a small smile, making his eyes wrinkle before a thought furrowed his brows. "What are you still doing here? I thought the Inquisition left hours ago?"

He turned his gaze and glimpsed at two figures that emerged from the open room. He had seen them a handful of times before, though their names hadn't quite stuck yet. A Qunari and Tevinter mage, who exchanged quick glances towards him before leaving down the long hall. He looked back to the Inquisitor, who smiled weakly.

"You're right, most of us left before dusk." She shrugged in the dim light. "I figured sleeping in an old rusty bed would still be better than a tiny cot on some sand."

"I can confirm that theory." Alistair said with a chuckle. Since the fifth blight Alistair had pretty much slept in nothing but cots. Or worse, the ground with nothing but a blanket to keep the creepy crawlies away. "I'm glad I ran into you, actually. I was hoping to speak before you left."

She blinked a few times with a blank stare, probably knowing what choice of topic Alistair had in mind, before she stepped back into the room and said, "Of course."

The room she had chosen for the night was lit by a single lamp sitting atop the only desk that wasn't broken or toppled over. It was small, but intact, which he supposed was most important to her. The light armor she had arrived in was neatly piled next to the bed, leaving her in a thick long tunic draped over her almost like a gown. He stood in the center of the room while she stood near the door and he let out a quiet sigh.

"Saying 'thank you' feels wrong, considering what's happened. I want you to know that I am grateful for it, though. You were thrown in the middle and forced to make a choice, that must have been awful." He looked back to her, watching her shift uncomfortably. In the flickering light she suddenly looked very beautiful.

"I promise to do everything in my power to make things right, Evelyn."

After a long pause of brittle silence, she began to pace around the room in an attempt to regain a pleasant composure. "Your next journey is Weisshaupt, to meet with other Grey Wardens, correct?" She asked, "What will you do after?"

"I'm...not sure, really." He looked over at her out of the corner of his eye. "We will help the Inquisition when called upon. Between that and Weisshaupt, I suppose I'll just do what the Wardens in Weisshaupt suggest I do, so as long as it's progressive."

Evelyn nodded. "There will be a place at the Inquisition's war table saved for you, if you chose to take it."

Alistair felt a stab of guilt for a split second, knowing Hawke should have that place, but he smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. "Perhaps one day I'll take you up on that. Though my knowledge couldn't compare to some of the Wardens in Weisshaupt. Should I recommend any willing to your ambassador?"

"I don't want the Grey Wardens in Weisshaupt," she chuckled lightly, "I want you."

The rush of an unknowing sensation brushed through him and his face felt hot. He smirked, his brows knitting at the odd feeling that it gave him. Was he embarrassed at the Inquisitor wanting his input on her council, or for what she had implied? Her eyes went wide for a moment and she blinked, thinking hard, rerunning the short visit of her words. "I mean, I want-well I _do_ want, but-I-" Why was she stammering?

Evenlyn finally let loose a small laugh, and Alistair couldn't help but give a small laugh back. She ran her fingers over her dark hair, letting bits of her fringe flutter back into place, and looked at Alistair in the most peculiar way. It was a look he had seen only once years ago. Back then it made him nervous, it made him shaky and sweat profusely.

But now it made his heart pump harder, a growing excitement that fluttered in his stomach...

An unspoken moment had happened then. A few impulsive steps Alistair had not known he made towards her, a touch on her face he couldn't remember commanding his hand to make. A rough, primal kiss his lips enforced onto hers. What in the Maker was he doing? Even then, in that split second of realization, he was reluctant to think of an answer, fearing an answer would only drive him closer to her. When his body returned control to him he tried to pull himself away. To coil up into himself, apologize like an idiot and sprint out of her room in a gust of power. But he felt a warm hand glide to the back of his head, resting behind his ear with a gentle tremble. He looked down at her with shallow breaths, studying every inch of her face. Maybe it was just what he wanted to see, but he could swear her bright eyes were sparkling against the orange glows of her room. He shook his head ever so noticeably in disbelief and he put his mouth over hers again, kissing her, left in a daze but in complete control.

Alistair spread his hands along her back to help guide Evelyn to the edge of her room, pressing her to the wall with a soft thud. Her hands found his chest, resting on the metal plate for a moment before he could hear the leather clasps of his armor being undone by rouge fingers. When the chest plate came loose and fell loudly to the floor, his shoulders suddenly relaxed, unaware that they had been stiff until that very moment. He felt the pressure of his lust uncomfortably prodding inside his armor and he desperately wanted to free himself.

The rest of his armor had slowly fallen onto the floor piece by agonizing piece in a pile between their feet, all the while Alistair not willing to let Evelyn go; his hands lifted at the hem of her tunic to feel the warm flesh beneath, traveling to the orbs of her breasts in frantic desire, pushing the fabric off to bite at her shoulders and sooth the pain. He stopped kissing only for a moment, watching her as his hands pulled down her tunic until it sat at the top of her hips. Before he had a chance to, Evelyn took his hand and lead it to her breast, letting loose a moan between parted lips at his touch. The sound of her moan brought Alistair over the edge. A low groan escaped his throat at the feeling. Using his free hand he reached for her thigh, hefting her up against the wall, using his shoulder to keep her in place while he attack her neck with his lips and fumbled at the buckles of his breeches.

The impact jolted his insides and nearly knocked the breath out of him, like a hard hit from a shield. Evelyn let out a loud yelp but the gasp was cut off by Alistair's lips. She grabbed onto his shoulders tightly and let her lips quiver against his mouth. He pressed his lips against her neck and held onto the back of her thighs harder. He began his thrusts with a relentless vigor, clashing into her in harsh jerks that made him feel more alive than he had ever felt.

He caught helpless whimpers from Evelyn's throat, slowing down when he remembered how much he missed her kiss. He went at a rhythmic pace then, his hazel eyes watching her, begging his mind to memorize every moment of this.

The Grey Warden drew in a sharp breath as he felt himself coming close, he felt the muscles of his back and neck tighten, his eyes tightly closing at the anticipation. He held her tighter and pushed himself even closer against her. Maker, she felt so good. Alistair couldn't focus any longer, not on their surroundings or keeping quiet, the titles each had carried no meaning anymore. Pleasure pang through his core in a slow, warm wave.

When he came he let out a breathless, desperate groan. In slow, unsteady thrusts he rode out his pleasure, hearing her name roll off his tongue in an weak whisper. His forehead pressed against Evelyn's as he took a moment to catch his breath, stealing quick kisses between exhales. He let his grip on her thighs let up, slowly lowering her the few inches she was raised.

Evelyn's legs wobbled and her knees caved into themselves from shaky muscles. He hands quickly held her up. "Easy now." Alistair's voice said gently. He smiled at her, leaning down a little to kiss her temple tenderly.

It was then Alistair could see a faint trail of crimson below them, and all the color seemed to drain from his face.

She was untouched?

He stared for a long moment, looking down at what he had done. Of course she was, he scolded himself. Most noble girls are until they marry. She couldn't be any older than he was when he...no, it's not the same.

There's no justifying it.

He wanted to regret it, to be guilty about it like everything else he felt guilty about as of late. It would be the right thing to do.

But the feeling never came. Why didn't he feel guilty?

"Alistair." She whispered, a brow laced with worry raised.

He let out a breath and smiled again. As gently as he could, he picked up the Inquisitor, laying her on the bed she had readied earlier that night. Aside from the frame a bit crooked it didn't look too uncomfortable. He crawled in beside her and kissed her again, one last time before she would eventually fall asleep in his arms.

Alistair was there, next to her beneath the make-shift covers, for hours. Every so often he would tell himself it was time ago, and every time he would do nothing. A protective yearning kept him from leaving. It felt right for her to be in his arms. When he was left with no more idle time, he leaned into her and smelled her hair before crawling out of bed.

Slowly, soundlessly he put on his armor, all but his amulet that lingered in the palm of his hand.

He ran his calloused thumb over the round engravings, something he had always done for years. He hadn't noticed the griffin etched into the metal was worn by his tampering. He let out another sigh and placed the gold necklace beside Evelyn on her bed.

With a small, sad smile to himself, Alistair carefully turned the latch, pulled open the door, and left the Inquisitor, hoping that he will leave as deep an impact on her as she had on him.


End file.
